


A Good Spot

by orphan_account



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bathtub Sex, Dining table sex, F/F, Kitchen Sex, Library Sex, basically just a lot of sex, mansion sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 07:03:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4512444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The long-ago-promised mansion sex fic that I told tumblr was going to happen, I dunno, months ago.  </p><p>With a brief Jarvis break for comic relief and to cleanse the palate.  :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good Spot

"Whaddya think, Peg? Is this a good spot?" Angie asked, setting the porcelain vase full of freshly cut orchids in the living room window.  She found the flowers a little disruptive on that table in the foyer, where they were practically begging to be knocked over.

Peggy, just coming in at the end of a long day, slipped her topcoat off and hung it on the coat rack by the door.  Giving a cursory glance at the flowers in the window, she shrugged.  “I suppose it’s fine, or maybe on the Chesterfield in the dining room.”

Angie shook her head.  “Same problem as that table by the door.  Beggin’ to be knocked over.”

Angie disappeared into the dining room for a moment though, and came back without the vase.  She sailed over to where Peggy was taking off her shoes, laying her purse on the table, and all her other end of day coming home rituals.  She ran up, planted a kiss on Peggy’s lips, seeming to startle her, and then snatched the red fedora off her head and plopped it on her own head.  “I’m Agent Carter,” she intoned in an accent that was actually a not-half-bad approximation of Peggy’s posh boarding-school cadence.  Her eyes twinkled with mischief.

The weariness around Peggy’s eyes seemed to evaporate.  “Give me my hat, you silly ass.”  She reached out to snatch it back, but Angie danced just out of her reach.  

“Come get it,” she taunted.  

Peggy ran after her in stocking feet across the varnished oak floors toward the staircase leading up.  About five steps up, she caught of hold of Angie's cardigan, spun her around and kissed her deeply.  Angie melted in her hands, kissing her back, still holding the hat on her head with one hand.  When Peggy's tongue slid into her mouth, she went weak in the knees and Peggy lowered her down onto the carpeted steps.

Angie leaned back, resting her weight on her elbows, while Peggy started unbuttoning Angie's sweater.  "OK, OK," she moaned, as Peggy's mouth made its way down her chest, "you can have your hat back."

Peggy gave a wicked smile and looked at Angie, who was holding the hat on for dear life, and shook her head as she slipped Angie out of her sweater and tossed it in a little heap beside them on the steps.  "No, darling, I think you should leave it on."

Her fingers slid up Angie's inner thigh, teasing the sensitive skin.  But the upper step was jabbing into Angie's back.  "Oh, honey, this isn't a good spot."

Peggy looked at her quizzically, continuing to tease the skin of her thigh. "It's not?"

Angie looked at the hand that had disappeared under her skirt.  " _That's_ a good spot," she said, nodding toward it, "but _this_ is not a good spot."  She gestured to the stairs.  "My back.... it's not..."

Peggy looked up the stairs, and then down, and quickly decided down would be preferable.  Fewer steps.  She grabbed Angie's hand and they ran, grinning, over to the couch.

Peggy laid down on it and pulled Angie on top of her, still wearing the hat, and they returned to kissing deep, hard kisses.  Angie untucked Peggy's blouse from her skirt and slid a hand up her shirt to those massive, glorious breasts.  Peggy arched her back into Angie's hands, and Angie started moving slowly on top of her, but the couch proved too narrow and they found themselves slipping down off of it and onto the floor one too many times.  They looked at each other, laughing, as they found themselves sprawled on the Persian rug for what was possibly the third time.  "Not a good spot?" Peggy suggested, watching an undeterred Angie continue to work the buttons on her tailored silk blouse.

"No," Angie laughed, finally getting Peggy’s blouse all the way open,  but she couldn't quite get up until she'd had a good several minutes of losing herself in Peggy's cleavage, teasing the nipples through her lacy bra, and listening to her moan in response.

"Darling..." Peggy began breathlessly, but still uncomfortable.

Angie stopped.  "Library?"

Peggy grinned.  "Library."   

They ran off to the library.  Peggy’s blouse stayed behind on the living room floor.

  
  


**

  
  


The library had become a favorite location.  Peggy had settled into the big wingchair by the fireplace, Angie on her lap, facing her, skirt crushed up around her hips, blouse open.  Peggy spent a few warm minutes kissing Angie’s chest, then slipped the blouse off of her, unhooked her bra, and tossed it aside.  Angie was straddling Peggy's leg, grinding herself against it while Peggy was kissing and softly sucking at her nipples.  

"Good spot?"  Peggy mumbled around a mouthful of Angie's breast.  They were little and perfect and round, and she could nearly get a whole one into her mouth if she were motivated about it.

"Mmm," Angie answered, enjoying the attention, enjoying the feel of Peggy’s body, her subtle perfume, and the growing heat and wetness she felt rubbing herself against Peggy’s warm, firm thigh.  She slipped her hand down into the waistband of Peggy’s skirt and found her just as warm and just as wet through the fabric of her delicates.  

"Oh! Good spot!"  Peggy exclaimed, wriggling against Angie’s fingers.  She unzipped the skirt to give Angie more room to maneuver, and locked together in each other’s arms in the big, comfortable wingchair by the fireplace, they moved against each other until they shuddered together, Angie clutching Peggy’s face against her breast, Peggy’s hands cupped around Angie’s delicious little ass, hanging onto each other for dear life. 

  
  
  


**

 

On shaky legs, they strolled down to the kitchen, thirsty, half-naked and flushed.  Angie had not noticed when or where the fedora had fallen off her head, only that by the time they were going at things in the library, that it was no longer there.  As they made their way to the kitchen, Peggy rescued it off of the hardwood in the hallway, carrying it with her into the kitchen.  She moved to set it down on the small table near the window, but Angie dove for it and snatched it away.

“You don’t leave a hat on a table, are you crazy?” she demanded with great annoyance.

Peggy looked bewildered.  “Why not?  It’s perfectly clean.”

“It’s  bad luck .”  She was adamant.  

Peggy took the hat back, walked away from the table and, hat still in hand, poured two glasses of water from the pitcher full of water and lemon slices in the refrigerator.  She glanced around the kitchen.  “Well, what about the counter?  Or does that meet the requirements for a table as well?”

Angie took the glass from Peggy and sipped it, considering the question.  “I don’t know,” she answered finally, “it’s a little too close for comfort if you ask me.”

Peggy hmphed and popped the hat back on Angie’s head.  Angie was topless but still had her stockings and skirt on, somehow, and the hat… looked even sexier on her than it did when she first put it on. Peggy, now in slip, stockings and bra, backed Angie up against the countertop.  “Now,” she purred in Angie’s ear, “what if the hat is on you, and I put you on the countertop.  Does that count as bad luck?”  She slid her hands around behind Angie’s thighs and hiked her up onto the counter, pushing her legs apart to move herself comfortably in between them.  While they clung together, kissing hotly, Peggy’s fingers moved up the inside of Angie’s thigh and in between her legs, causing a little moan to erupt when her fingertips made contact.

“I’m feeling pretty lucky right now,” Angie answered breathlessly, sucking on Peggy’s bottom lip.  She set her glass of water down and surrendered to Peggy’s touch.

Peggy pushed the silk of Angie’s panties aside and slid a finger inside her, moving slowly in and out as her legs dangled over the edge of the counter.  Angie leaned back on her elbows, head back, as first one leg, then the other, wound themselves around Peggy’s hips, pulling her further in.  “Oh,” she sighed, “that’s just right, sugar…”

“Good spot?”  Peggy asked, thrusting deeper, but still slow and soft.

It was too easy.  It was too good.

“Good --oh!-- good spot!” Angie moaned.

  
  
  


**

  
  


“Honestly, Angie, it’s not a competition.”

A beat of silence.  “Of course it’s not.”

“But you’re acting - oh, GOD, yes-  you’re acting like it is.”

Another beat of silence in which Angie wiped her mouth a little before speaking.  “No, I’m not.  It’s just my turn.”  She lowered her head back down.  “Now stop talking.”

The moment she’d finished on the counter, Angie had jumped down from it and dragged Peggy by the wrist into the dining room, kissed her until she was melting, and then pushed her down onto her back onto the dining table covered with its crisp, flawless burgundy linens.  She then pulled up a chair, spread Peggy’s legs open, pushed her silky white underthings aside and began to devour her.

Peggy was hardly one to complain, and they had joked on multiple occasions that one of these days, they’d get around to making love on every available surface in the place.  It was looking more and more, though, like today might be that day.  She relaxed and her hands clutched at the tablecloth underneath her back, as Angie’s sweet, quick tongue dipped into her folds and then made its way up to her burning clit to deliciously torment it with soft, warm strokes, over and over.  She really was particularly good at this, Peggy thought gratefully.  It wasn’t a requirement but skill in this area was definitely a strong criterion in Angie’s favor.  

They were both so involved, Peggy in her pleasure and Angie in her task, that neither of them heard the front door open.  

Neither of them heard the footsteps in the foyer or approaching them through the living room.

Neither of them heard the same footsteps, in hard, pointy-tipped men’s shoes, until they’d entered the room and were accompanied by, “Oh dear GOD!”

Angie sat straight up in her chair, first realizing that Jarvis was standing in front of them, frozen in the entrance to the dining room, covering his eyes with one hand and clutching at his umbrella with the other, and then realizing that she was still topless.  Peggy’s reflexes had engaged and she immediately rolled off of the table, managing to pull the tablecloth around herself in one swift movement as she did.  She stood there looking indignantly at Jarvis as if she weren’t nearly naked and wrapped in a tablecloth, while Angie scurried behind one of the curtains, moaning with distress, “Oh, man, Jarvis!  You ever heard of knocking?!”

“Oh… I’m terribly sorry, Miss Carter, Miss Martinelli,” he stammered, “I’m afraid I just came by to retrieve something for Mr. Stark and I neglected to ring because he expected you both to be at the theatre tonight….”  He tried to keep his eyes covered while simultaneously backing away, and in so doing, managed to knock the vase full of orchids off of the Chesterfield near the door.  It landed on the oak floor with a crash, shattering into pieces and leaving a puddle of water and flower stems.  

“See Peg?” Angie couldn’t resist pointing out from behind the curtain.  “I told you it wasn’t a good spot.”

Peggy managed to continue giving Jarvis the indignant, irritated glare.  “Mr. Jarvis, do you intend to destroy any more of Mr. Stark’s property before retrieving what you came for?”

He glanced down through his fingers at the mess on the floor.  “Oh… ah, well, I shan’t be a moment, let me just fetch a dustpan and foxtail to straighten that up-”

“I suggest you leave immediately, Mr. Jarvis, and return at a later time, at which point I strongly suggest you make use of your advanced doorbell-ringing skills.”

“Of course, Miss Carter.”  Continuing to shield his eyes, he offered a lame wave of his umbrella in Angie’s direction.  “Miss Martinelli, er, a good evening to both of you.”  He turned tail and went scurrying out in the direction of the front door.

Once she was satisfied Jarvis was gone, Angie emerged from behind the curtain.  She peered out into the living room.  “I think I need to scrub that moment off of me,” she grumbled.

Peggy let the tablecloth fall in a heap on the floor.  “Sounds like a brilliant idea, darling.”  She slid her slip down past her hips and let it drop to the floor on top of the tablecloth.  She smiled at Angie with a raised eyebrow.  After a beat, she headed toward the door, grabbing a bottle of red wine and two glasses off the top of the Chesterfield.  She glanced over her shoulder.  “Coming?”

"Already did, but you know I never turn down seconds," Angie quipped, following along after her.

"Thirds," Peggy corrected her primly, not looking back again.

  
  
  


**

  
  


The twin glasses of 1865 Château Lafite wobbled slightly on the silver serving tray beside the bathtub.  

“Those glasses are too close,” Angie panted, her leg hanging over the side of the tub, dripping absurd amounts of hot, soapy water onto the floor.   

“Stop talking,” Peggy panted back, kissing the back of Angie’s neck.  Her hands moved beneath the water, causing a little tide in the tub, that moved in an out as she worked feverishly, with great concentration.  


When Angie finished a moment later, sending a tsunami of bath water onto the tiled floor, suds splashed onto the sides of the glasses, and the wine inside them leapt around wildly.

“See, they’re perfectly fine,” Peggy assured her breathlessly.  


Angie turned over, flushed.  “So are you,” she said, and leaned against Peggy’s soapy, wet breasts, lingering in them for a moment before tilting her head back and pulling Peggy’s mouth down to hers for a delicious, languid kiss.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Peggy mumbled against Angie’s soft, wet mouth.

“I’ve already gotten everywhere,” she whispered back, and slid beneath the bubbles.  
  
  
  


**

  
  


Angie had made a pot of braciole the night before and it was even better the next day, even cold.  Peggy supposed it didn’t hurt that it was paired with the rest of that Château Lafite.  They replenished their strength and then dragged themselves upstairs to lay naked in the massive bed they shared in the master bedroom on the second floor.  Breezes breathed through the window as they lay half under and half over the silky sheets.  

“So, where  didn’t we?”  Angie sighed happily, nuzzling Peggy’s bare shoulder.

Peggy yawned, stroking Angie’s hair.  “Roof deck.”

Angie weakly pounded her fist on the mattress.  It took most of what little energy she had.  “Damn!  I knew we were forgetting something.”

Peggy smiled.  “We’ll be here staying here a while, God willing.  I’m sure we’ll get to it.”  She shifted against Angie, adjusting the fit of their bodies as they lay curled in the dark.

“I know,” Angie pouted.  “But…  under the stars , Peg… it woulda been a good spot.”  She could barely move but still, she would have gone again in a half a moment if Peggy had wanted.

“Do you know where else is a good spot?”  Peggy asked after a moment, amused at Angie’s little pout.

“Hmm?” Angie asked sleepily.

“Right here,” she said softly.

“In bed?” Angie yawned.  "Kinda been done, don't you think?"

“Anywhere,” Peggy answered, kissing her softly.  “Anywhere you are.  In your arms.  That’s a good spot.  It’s the best spot.”

Angie snuggled closer.  “You sure know what to say to a girl.”

“It’s true.”

“Yeah yeah,” Angie yawned, cutely burrowing her cheek against Peggy’s breast.  “Roof deck tomorrow, English.”

“Of course, darling.”

“Night, Peg.”

“Goodnight, darling.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
